


Alternatives to Death By Drowning

by feverbeats



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-29
Updated: 2011-04-29
Packaged: 2017-10-18 19:35:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,517
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/192488
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/feverbeats/pseuds/feverbeats
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Five things that never happened to Regulus Black.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Alternatives to Death By Drowning

_Wiring_

“Bella, hi.”

Bellatrix narrows her eyes and hesitates on the threshold of the little London flat. “I’m not sure I can come in here.”

His face—gone slightly thin now, more like Sirius’s—crinkles when he smiles. “You’re not a _vampire_. And even if you are. Come in.”

She gets the distinct impression he’s referring not to _real_ vampires but to some sort of Muggle popular culture idea. He does that now, even though she’s told him he doesn’t need to keep it up around other Wizards. Still, it’s cold out, and she’s not in the mood to argue. She steps inside.

 _It’s a small flat, modestly furnished, but with enough luxuries that it’s clear to her Regulus hasn’t completely forgotten where he came from. If you’re raised a Black, there’s a certain standard of life you expect no matter what, except, perhaps, if you’re Sirius._

 _“Well,” she says, “It’s not as bad as it could be.” She glances at Regulus. He’s wearing a purple shirt and corduroy—trousers, she supposes._

 _He smiles and shoves his glasses (oh, _those_ are new) up his nose. “Well, _I_ like it. It’s mad, though, Bella, really. You see these?” He indicates the glasses she’s been staring at. “No magic here, just a prescription. And if I break them, I have to fix them with this little kit. I’m getting good at fixing things.”_

It’s unbearable. “What is _wrong_ with you?” she spits, shoving past him to regard the rest of the flat with distaste. “I didn’t understand it when Sirius betrayed us for Mudbloods, but this is a thousand times worse. You’re actually _living_ like one of them. Like an _animal_. How can do you do this to us?” The suggestion that he’s besmirched his family’s honor used to bring Regulus back in line instantly.

He just offers a little smile. “I fixed the wiring the other day.”

Bella feels her fast twist in fury. “That's—that's disgusting. I don't even know what wiring _is_. Why, Regulus? Just when our Master is reaching the height of his power?”

“I can’t begin to see a correlation,” he says with uncharacteristic sarcasm. “They’re going mad, both sides. The only sane thing to do is leave it alone.”

If that’s sanity, Bellatrix isn’t interested in it. All right, she doesn’t like doing this, but clearly nothing else has worked. “What does your mother think of all this? She’s been so _ill_ lately, surely—”

 _Regulus stiffens. “No. No, Bella, you don’t get to do that. Sirius was right, you’re not worth listening to much anymore.” He laughs ruefully. “Sirius was right. Not something I thought I’d be saying a lot. I think you should go.”_

 _“ _Merlin_ ,” Bella hisses. “I don’t know why I even came. You—You _fled_ our world. How am I expected to forgive that kind of cowardice?”_

Regulus’s face, as usual when he’s upset, is impossible to read. “This war isn’t going to turn out well for anyone. I wasn’t going to stick around and watch my family members destroy each other. I have better things to do with my time.” He goes to the door and holds it open. “I’ll see you. I imagine.”

“Hold on, better things?” Bella is too angry to leave just yet. “What in the world could you be doing _here_ , in this Muggle flat, that’s better than what you could be doing for our Master? Or, or even for _them_ , for the Order? Even that would be better.”

Regulus stares at a spot just above Bella’s head, his forehead creased. “I thought I might become a teacher.”

When she leaves, she slams the door.

 _Loyalty_

Regulus always looks as though he’s focused on something else when he’s kneeling before the Dark Lord. The fact that Regulus is distracted doesn’t bother Severus particularly (although he hates not knowing what Regulus is thinking), but the fact that he doesn’t bother hiding it does. Severus finds himself always holding his breath, waiting for their Master to punish Regulus for not paying enough attention, not worshipping him properly, not focusing all his attention on the Dark Lord’s needs. Someone probably should have informed the Dark Lord that Blacks don’t do well with authority.

But Regulus has stayed, and he’s stayed loyal, something that is becoming more and more difficult for Severus to deal with. Living with one of the Dark Lord’s most loyal—if not servants, then at least adherents—while spying on the Death Eater is problematic at best.

Regulus rises and is dismissed back to Severus’s side. “It always worries me a little,” he says in a hushed voice. “The part where we kiss the hem of his robes, I mean. I don’t think that’s sanitary.” He looks Severus in the eye, dead serious.

Severus laughs, and several of the others look around in surprise. He privately thinks they should go hang themselves. “I’m sure that’s a diagnosable disorder you have.”

“Well,” Regulus says, the corner of his mouth turning up just far enough, “Disorders run in our family.”

“All that inbreeding.” Severus has made his opinions of purebloods known, but only in places where people will chalk it up to jealousy rather than disloyalty.

“Fair point. Sometimes I like to make lists of all the things that are probably wrong with me and my family.” He shoots Severus a blinding smile, half-genuine, Severus _thinks_. “I think Bellatrix got the worst of it, unfortunately.” He glances over at her where she hovers by the Dark Lord’s side, probably waiting to kiss the hem of his robes. “Oh look, she’s seen me standing by you.” Regulus leans against Severus and starts to play with his sleeve, more deliberate than idle.

Severus stiffens slightly and doesn’t put his arm around Regulus. He’s told Regulus a thousand times that he doesn’t feel comfortable being like this at meeting, but that just puts Regulus in a snit for a week. Regulus’s snits are awful, because he hides them just well enough for someone without all of Severus’s guilt complexes to ignore.

But it’s not just a matter for discomfort at this point. Severus feels more and more _wrong_ about being this way—fuck it, being _romantic_ with his _boyfriend_ \--when he’s leaving in five minutes to spill all of their secrets to Dumbledore.

It’s worse, knowing that he’s the reason Regulus has stayed loyal.

He’s spoken to Dumbledore about it, of course, begged him for permission to tell Regulus the truth, but of course Dumbledore doesn’t want to increase the risk of Severus being discovered. Severus can’t blame him for that.

When Regulus frowns and steps away from Severus, though, obeying Dumbledore’s orders becomes infinitely harder.

 _Houses_

“Hey, you,” Sirius says, slamming down his History of Magic book next to Regulus’s eggs. “Quidditch match today. You ready to get beaten so badly you cry for a week?”

Regulus rolls his eyes and nudges Sirius’s book out of the way. “Last I heard, you were off the team again. For putting your club to an inappropriate use.”

Sirius laughs and flings himself down in the empty chair next to Regulus. “You’re a bastard and that sounds sexual.”

Regulus flushes and hides it (but not well enough) by taking a bite of egg. “You know I didn’t mean it that way. Now go away. I have a test to study for.”

Sirius is happy to oblige, as he has some business of his own to take care of. Namely, seeing if he can get back on the team by three o’clock. They need his expertise, even if it is just a game against Ravenclaw. This game wouldn’t even be a challenge if not for his brother.

It’s a little unfair, he think, that Regulus is good at Quidditch and school. Then again, Seeker is the nerd position, so Sirius doesn’t feel too bad about the fact that he can’t stay focused long enough to stay on the team. At least Regulus is on his side in weathering their mother’s now-divided wrath at their failure to be Sorted into Slytherin.

*

“Cissy talked to me today. She said her boyfriend is joining the Death Eaters, or that he already has.”

Sirius bites back the urge to suggest that they just turn him in now, then. “Go on.”

Regulus shrugs, but he looks cagey. “What do you think? I think we don’t know nearly enough about the whole thing.” Before Sirius can say anything, he goes on, “Oh, I’m not going to join. Don’t worry about that. But I do think we should find out more about what’s going on. It’s all been so hushed-up by the papers and the Ministry.”

Sirius hates it when Regulus has a point, which is nearly always. Having nothing to argue against is absolutely maddening. “I assume this means we’re headed to your favorite place. And not even the restricted section.”

“You act as if there’s pornography in there, honesty,” Regulus sighs. “You and Potter get so weird about it. I hate to say it, but I think we _will_ have to sneak in there. I don’t imagine there’s any better place to find out the background of this movement.”

Sirius resigns himself to a long day of his least favorite thing, research. “If you insist. I think we could do better by just asking around, though.”

Regulus shakes his head, his face already set in that faraway look of concentration. “Eventually, yes, but not now. That’s too obvious. And besides, this has to have started somewhere. We should look at the history of Grindelwald’s uprising, for one thing.”

Sirius has already tuned out, relieved at the prospect of some eventual action. Without Regulus and Remus, he and James would be stuck doing all the research themselves.

 _Water_

Narcissa wakes up to the sound of water. She’s startled from a dream of still, dark pools by a splashing, rushing sound from the stairwell.

She sits up and glances at her husband. Lucius is still asleep, apparently untroubled by nightmares or phantom noises. But the sound is still there, even now that she’s fully awake.

When her feet touch the floor, it’s icy cold and damp. She feels as though she’s still half-trapped in the dream, the liquid weight of humid air pressing into her lungs. She wishes Lucius would wake up, but she’s suddenly afraid of what would happen if he did.

The wallpaper in the hallway is damp, too, although in this old house (not as old as Lucius pretends it is), the dampness seeps in easily enough. _It’s nothing,_ she tells herself.

Until she reaches the top of the stairs. There’s someone—something—on the landing, obscured by the darkness and the mist that has somehow crept into the house.

“Hello?” she whispers. The air is clammy against her skin, and her nightgown feels constricting, too tight for her to breathe.

The form shifts in the darkness, and there’s a _slish_ as if a huge amount of water is shifting around down there, too.

“Hello?” she tries again, and this time she speaks out loud, but her voice is so rough it barely registers as her own when she hears it.

The mist dissipates suddenly, breaking up and drifting down the marble stairs, leaving too much moisture in its wake. On the landing, Regulus looks up at her.

His face is too pale. Their family has never been rosy-cheeked, but no one is this pallid in life. His eyes are wrong, too, dark and unfocused. His robes are sodden.

She covers her mouth. Not Regulus. She’s got to stop thinking that name or she’s dead. She’s got to think Inferius, because that’s what it is. “Oh, Merlin,” she whispers.

“No, it’s fine.”

She gasps, startled. They’re not supposed to be articulate, even when they’re well-directed. “What?”

“I’m not going to hurt you.” His—It’s voice is heavy with the sound of running water. “I just wanted someone to know where I’ve gone.” The words echo off the marble, or off nothing.

“What happened?” She can’t make herself raise her voice above a whisper.

Its sigh gurgles. “I think I helped save the world. I’m sorry.”

She doesn’t understand, but she’s not even so certain she’s awake. “Sorry? Sorry for what?”

It turns without answering and moves back down the stairs, its steps uneven and liquid.

Narcissa wakes next to Lucius the next morning with no memory of going back to bed and to a report that Regulus has gone missing.

 _Scars_

“And you kept it? You kept it all this time?”

The man in the black cloak smiles bitterly. “Is that so hard to believe, Albus? What would you have done?”

Albus sighs. “You’ve seen my hand. Perhaps that is proof enough of the temptation such an item offers. But I find it hard to believe that you hid yourself—and it—from him for so long.”

Regulus—barely recognizable and Regulus, but who else would he be?—laughs. “He found out relatively quickly. He used to check on the thing all the time. But I didn’t touch the locket and I didn’t wear it, and he had a lot of other irons in the fire. He got distracted and then he got killed, and since he’s been back, he’s been looking for me. I’m probably lucky you found me first.” The corner of his mouth twitches on _probably_ , a motion Albus does not fail to notice.

“You’ve been astonishingly lucky,” he says. “How did you survive stealing it?”

Regulus shrugs, and the scars on his face shift. “I’m a good swimmer.”

Albus knows better than anyone that all people have secrets they deserve to keep to themselves. “And now? You realize we need to destroy it.”

Regulus leans back against the window sill. “Of course. You think I haven’t tried? Ever since I went into hiding with it I’ve been looking for a way. But without my family’s help . . .” He glances away. “Well, my resources were limited. But you can have it, of course. You’re welcome to try your hand at getting rid of it.”

“Good.” This has not been an easy conversation. “May I?” Albus holds out his hand.

Regulus frowns, looking a little younger. “That is, of course, if I can trust you with it. I’ve done a lot of reading in my time away from the heart of the Wizarding world. Talked to a lot of people no one ever thinks to talk to. I could tell you things about yourself—”

“Unnecessary,” Albus says quickly, fighting the surge of panic that still rises every single time. “The past is simply that—past. I see no need to dwell on events that are no longer relevant.”

Regulus shakes his head. “No. You shouldn’t have showed me you hand. I want to give this to Harry myself.”

Albus has done all he can to keep Harry out of the midst of this, especially given what must happen eventually, but they’re running short on time. “If you insist,” he says, unable to keep this voice from tightening.

Regulus smiles. “Good. I’ve always wanted to meet him.”


End file.
